
ESi£y5" 






COPYRIGHT DEPOSH^ 



Songs oLiLe Times 



by 

William F. Henney 




Cochrane Publishing Company 

Tribune Building 

New York 

1910 






t °( / o 



Copyright, igio, by 
Cochrane Publishing Co. 



©CI.A26131S 



V) 






CONTENTS 



Song First 
The Millionaire 11 

Song Second 
The Washerwoman 21 

Song Third 
The Parson 31 

Song Fourth 
The Motorman 43 

Song Fifth 
The Editor 55 

Song Sixth 
The Stenograi^her 71 

Song Seventh 
The Lawyer 85 

Song Eighth 
My Star 99 

Song Ninth 
A Song of Life 107 



SONG FIRST 



Songs of the Times 



THE MILLIONAIRE 

I. 

Man of many millions, thou 

With the prone and care-crowned brow, 

Conjurer, with magic arts 

Into dollars coining hearts, 

Broken hearts, transmuted by 

Thy consummate alchemy; 

Ranger o'er the world's highways, 

TTndeterred by blame or praise, 

Strong to hold, to smite, to bind, 

Taking toll of humankind, 

(Robin Hood, in Sherwood shade. 

These compelling traits displayed), 

Lo! thy servant. Fortune, brings 

Wealth to thee and power of Kings. 



11 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

II. 

At thy word, to favoring gale 
Commerce sets the swelling sail, 
Through the tempest smitten main 
Ploughs the steam Leviathan. 
At thy word what factories hum. 
What industrial armies come 
Swift to do thy bidding there, 
Child and man and woman fair, 
Toiling early, toiling late. 
To increase thy vast estate. 

III. 

At thy bidding anvils ring. 
From the forest cities spring, 
^Monster locomotives roar. 
Flying fast from shore to shore. 
Puffing east and puffing west, 
North and South at thy behest. 
These, and much beside are thine; 
Treasures of the gloomy mine. 
Golden ore and gems that glow 
T-Iidden in the rocks below; 
Delving hands for thee bring forth 
From the disemboweled earth. 



12 



THE MILLIONAIRE 
IV. 

School and University 

Own the reverence due to thee, 

Of thy helpful friendship proud, 

By thy gracious gifts endowed. 

Stranger to all classic lore. 

And to Learning's goodly store, 

Yet thy ignorance shall be 

Veiled and crowned by learned degree, 

Chaplet, Scholar hands bestow, 

Wreathing thy uncultured brow. 



V. 



Thou hast spoken; churches rise. 
Graceful spires that pierce the skies, 
Shrines and altars manifold 
Which thy liberal hands uphold, 
Chimes and choirs and piety 
Pillared and sustained by thee. 
Myriad lawyers at thy gate 
On thy fitful pleasure wait. 
Trained and skilled in picking flaAvs 
In the text of righteous laws, 
Burly, jovial or gaunt, 
Each a venal sycophant. 



13 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Myriad doctors, too, attend 

Where thy wayward footsteps wend, 

Owning Physic ^s utmost skill 

Vassal to thy haughty will, 

Lest thou shouldst, too reckless grown, 

Dash thy foot against a stone. 

Prodigal of smells and pills, 

Purges, bandages and — bills, 

These, from every clime and land, 

Come and go at thy command. 

VI. 

And the obsequious parson, too, 
Sheds a halo round thy pew, 
Tells of missionaries, hence 
Sent afar at thy expense, 
From their loathsome state to call 
Idolater and cannibal. 
At thy bidding going forth 
To regenerate the earth. 
Organ, font baptismal, shrine, 
These are valued gifts of thine, 
These, in years to come, shall be 
Memorials of thy piety. 



14 



THE MILLIONAIRE 



VII. 



Potent in the halls of state 
To direct and legislate, 
Lobbyist and statesman bring 
Humble tribute to their king, 
Framing statute, vote and bill 
To the dictates of thy will, 
Casting down at thy decree 
Right and blood-bought liberty. 
Freedom ^s forms and phrases lent 
To thy tyrannous intent. 
Throttling, with unholy hand. 
Righteous law and just demand, 
Gyves and chains and fetters vast 
Round the people's servants cast 
By thine arts and quenchless rage 
To despoil their heritage. 

VIII. 

Man of millions, great shall be 
Thy responsibility. 
When, as in the fateful past, 
Wronged, the people rise at last, 
Thrust thee, ruthless tyrant down, 
Blast thy sceptre and thy crown, 



15 



SONGS OP THE TIMES 

All thy power to ruin hurled 
'Mid the curses of the world! 
Wrath and License stalking by, 
Want and wild-eyed anarchy, 
Eight and order, overthrown 
By the wrongs that thou hast done, 
These, in fierce repression, wait 
Threatening thy royal state. 
Be there need to build anew 
Liberties thy arts o 'erthrew. 
Revolution, with rude hand, 
Could alone restore the land. 
Laboring give, from sea to sea, 
Birth anew to liberty. 
Whatso'er thou doest, pause 
Ere thy touch corrupt our laws. 

IX. 

Would thy restive genius stood 
Harnessed to the common good! 
What delightful visions rise 
Of thy tireless enterprise 
Serving all, compelling Fate 
To the glory of the state. 
What immortal wreaths were thine. 
What undying fame would shine 



16 



THE MILLIONAIRE 

On thy path, in rectitude 
Striving for a people's good! 
Would such fruit thy toil might bear, 
Solemn, sad-eyed millionaire. 



X. 



Master Mind, Colossal Force ! 
As the swollen water-course 
Pours its wild, resistless tide 
O'er the level countryside, 
Swirling, ruthless, making spoil 
Of the season's fruitful toil, 
Tamed and bound by luiman skill 
Laves the lea and turns the mill, 
So thy talent, held in thrall 
For the common good of all, 
Grateful peoples would confess 
Glorious to inspire and bless. 

XL 

Turn thou, then, from selfish strife 

To a nobler, larger life; 

Let thy energy and will 

Higher destinies fulfill. 

Serve the State, maintain the laws, 

Battle for the righteous cause. 



17 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Mindful of the woes that fell 

On the outcast Ishmael, 

Turn not hand and heart and mind 

'Gainst the rest of humankind. 

Service vast 'tis thine to give. 

In that giving learn to live, 

By thy nobler instincts led, 

By unselfish motive swayed, 

Man of many millions, thou 

With the prone and care-crowned brow. 



18 



SONG SECOND 



THE WASHERWOMAN 

I. 

The Angel of the Lord, one day, 
Wending o'er the earth his way. 
Veiled and hid from mortal ken. 
Viewed the strange abodes of men, 
Saw the palaces of state, 
Mansions of the rich and great, 
Saw the mighty structures high 
Reared by Trade to vex the sky, 
Heard the clatter and the roar 
Of the far resounding shore 
Where the ships of Commerce rock. 
Laden, by the crowded dock; 
These he saw and much beside; 
Saw the stately temple's pride 
Lift the slender spire and fair 
Grandly through the fretted air. 
Incense saw, from censers swung. 
Through the vast cathedral flung. 

21 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

II. 

Not at these he paused, nor stayed 
Where the busy shuttle played 
In the factory's hum and din, 
Paused not here, nor entered in ; 
But with silent steps and sure 
Sought the dwellings of the poor, 
Passed within the lowly door. 
Never honored thus before, 
Of an humble tenement, 
Where a toiling woman bent 
O'er a steaming tub whose fume 
Filled the bare and squallid room. 

III. 

Round the door her children played. 
One a dark eyed little maid, 
Bare of foot and scant of dress 
In her three years' loveliness; 
One, a boy, whose sturdy arm 
Shields his sister's steps from harm. 
Safely guides her tottering feet 
Through the dangers of the street. 
Shares her joys and soothes her fears, 
Wiping with his sleeve her tears— 
Ah, the mother-love can trace 
His dead father in his face. 

22 



THE WASHERWOMAN 

IV. 

At the tub the mother stood 
Toiling for her children 's food ; 
All unseen, the angel fair 
Shed a glory round her there. 
Form, the washtub bending o'er, 
Children, playing at the door. 
Swollen hands and weary feet 
Winning bread the children eat, 
In that light ineffable 
Ye are wondrous beautiful. 



''Not like me," the woman said, 
''Shall my children drudge for bread. 
From these steaming suds shall rise 
Fairer opportunities, 
Brighter life and happier lot 
From this lowly washtub wrought, 
Than their toil worn mother knew. 
May her willing hands and true. 
Scrubbing early, scrubbing late. 
Win for them a better fate." 

VI. 

Then the angel of the Lord, 
Smiling, heard the murmured word. 

23 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Rose and went his shining way, 
Passed the children at their play, 
With him bore the mother's prayer, 
Went, but left his blessing there — 
Blessing on the aching head 
And the hands that toil for bread, 
Swollen hands, so scarred and torn, 
Stooping form, so bent and worn. 
On that dwelling of the poor. 
On the children at the door. 



VII. 

Days and nights and months and years, 
Mingling gifts of smiles and tears. 
Swiftly came and swifter sped, 
Weaving many a fateful thread. 
Feeding Time's devouring loom 
With their strands of light or gloom. 
Ere the Angel came again 
Unto the abodes of men. 
Now he stays not at the door 
Of the lowly and the poor ; 
On another errand come, 
Hastens to a mournful home. 
Where funeral flower and wreatli 
Sweet, sad tribute pay to Death. 



24 



THE WASHERWOMAN 

VIII. 

Sorrowing liearts were gathered here 

Round the flower laden bier; 

One, in manhood's strength and pride, 

Stood the solemn pall beside; 

Sadly by, another stood 

In the prime of womanhood. 

These the children at the door 

When the angel came before, 

Jjifted from their low estate 

To a fairer, brighter fate. 

By that mother's toil and care 

Who now lies prone and silent there. 

IX. 

Ah ! becoming well the tear 
Falling on that patient bier! 
Death hath swept each latest trace 
Of sorrow from the upturned face. 
Leaving only sweet appeal 
To the hearts that loved it well. 
Blending all things fair and good 
In one grace of motherhood. 
Silent there the children stand 
Clasping each the other's hand. 
While that tender face and true 
Says: '^I gave my life for you." 

25 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 
X. 

Toil-worn still, the scarred hands rest 
Folded on the pulseless breast. 
Where Love's last, fond seal is set 
In the clustered violet. 
Gone the years in toiling spent. 
Later years of sweet content 
Came in blessing, years of ease 
Crowned with plenty and with peace. 
While in strength to help and bless 
And in larger usefulness. 
Day by day, her children grew ; 
Day by day she heard anew 
Of some public service done 
By the washerw^oman 's son. 
Here, their painful toiling past. 
Weary hands may rest at last. 

XI. 

And the angel standing by. 
All unseen to mortal eye, 
AVhispers in that raptured ear 
Words that she alone may hear : 
' ' Woman . tliou hast nobly w^rought. 
Well deserved the blessing bought 



2G 



THE WASHERWOMAN 

By thy toil and fealty, 
Rise thou up and come with me. 
Sweeter welcome waiteth us 
Than rewarded Lazarus. 
Palms of victory thou shalt bear, 
Shining raiment thou shalt wear. 
Faithful mother, thou shalt be 
Crowned to al] eternity." 



27 



SONG THIRD 



THE PARSON 

I. 

Crash of organ, wail of prayer. 
Classic anthem grandly swelling 
O'er the patient congregation, 
Hymning Piety's oblation 
To the Highest ever dwelling 
In the heavens, himself revealing 
To his children everywhere; 
Sermon practical, didactic. 
Urging measures prophylactic 
'Gainst the civic ills prevailing, 
'Gainst the vices, never failing 
To assert their power malignant; 
These with mien and voice indignant 
Doth the dominie deplore; 
Then the deacons take collection. 
Sings the chair one more "selection," 
Now the gracious benediction. 
And "worshipping" is o'er. 

31 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 
II. 

In the pulpit high, 

Cynosure of every eye, 

Stands the parson every Sabbath day. 

Though clad in sombre black, 

Yet somewhat doth he lack 

In skill to blaze from earth to heaven the way. 

Pilot, who wouldst guide 

O'er the swelling tide 

Voyagers on Life's bewildering sea, 

Through the fog-bank drear 

Can thy vision clear 

]\Iark the harbor buoys more sure than we ? 

Through the starless dark 

Cans't thou guide our bark 

Till we catch the glimmering lights ashore, 

Till, our dangers past, 

We may rest at last 

Safe at home, to rove the seas no more? 

III. 

What would we not give 

Could thy skill achieve 

This surpassing service in our need; 

All our bearings lost. 



32 



THE PARSON 

Heart-sick, tempest-tossed, 

Through the storm-wrack and the gloom we 
speed. 

Somewhere on tlio strand 

Of the far off land, 

Wait the dear ones we liavc h)V('d and lost; 

Say, Pilot, cans't tliou guide, 

Through ni^ht and storm ;ai(l tide, 

To where the licmelights gleam along that 
blissful eoast? 

Hast ever to that shore 

The voyage made before, 

And marked the headland and the light- 
house and the bay? 

Ah! this we fain would know 

Before with thee we go. 

And through th(» night and tempest sail 
away. 



IV 



Home-sick, like us, tliou art, 

Thy compass and thy chart 

The same as ours, thy snils and spars tin 

same; 
How shall we follow thee 



33 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Across an unknown sea, 

Who knowest not the land we seek nor that 

from whence we came? 
Hast thou a keener eye 
Thy claims to justify 
Of Pilot, Leader, Admiral and Guide? 
Oft have we seen thy sail 
Rent by the conquering gale, 
Thee and tlij vessel frail tossed on the tide. 
Like us, afar from home, 
A wanderer thou dost roam, 
Thy reckonings lost and all around thee dark. 
And wouldst thou have us now 
Follow thy aimless prow. 
Our loves, our hopes, our all with thee embark? 



V. 



Idle for thee to preach, 

Idle to toil and teach, 

Idlest of all thy strivings to inspire 

The doubting heart with faith 

Prevailing over death, 

Unless thy mortal lips be touched with heavenly 

fire. 
Not on some time-worn creed 
But on the newer need 



34 



THE PARSON 

Of changing manners, larger lives and laws, 

By newer views of truth, 

Strong in unfading youth. 

Shall the ever-living church maintain her 

holy cause. 
From height to heiglit we climb 
The mountain range of Time, 
And find the horizon broadening on our 

view ; 
New reaches of delight 
Burst on our raptured sight, 
Diviner aspects of the good and true. 



VI. 



holy Truth, thy beacon ever 
Through storm and shadow glimmers far, 
And struggling towards tliy light forever 
The instincts of our being are. 
Thy path is rugged, who will dare it, 
Thy heights are giddy, who shall climb? 
Thy treasures rich, ah ! who shall share it 
Among the struggling sons of Time? 
Thy way is long and dark the story. 
Of martyred lives its winding tells. 
Between us and thy summit's glory 
What midnight darkness deeply dwells ! 



35 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

What errors of the past enchain us, 

What inborn prejudices cling, 

What inbred falsehoods still detain us 

When Thought would spread her ample wing. 

W^hat blinding fogs of doctrine shroud us 

Where'er our groping feet have trod. 

What theologic systems cloud us 

And hide away the face of God. 

O Bearer of Man's burden, thou 

Whose face is heaven, if heaven be sweet, 

Thou, with the torn and thorn-crowned brow 

And pierced hands and feet! 

Again, as in that darkened hour — 

The midnight of the ages — come 

In plentitude of love and power, 

light, dispel our gloom! 

VII. 

Ah! can the cross's awful story, 

The guilt, the grace, the shame, the glory, 

The temple's sundered veil, the day 

That, shuddering, hid in night away, 

The thorn-crowned Sufferer, lifted high. 

On sacrificial Calvary, 

The eye that pitied in her pain 

The widow at the gate of Nain, 



26 



THE PARSON 

The love that gave not only her 

But all the world a comforter, 

The tender voice that healed again 

The broken heart of Magdalen, 

The risen Lord, of life the giver, 

Who blesses, loves and lives forever. 

Can these need oratorio art 

To sway the mind, or touch the heart, 

Can tongue professional express 

The beauty of their holiness? 

Nay, for these themes the heart must be 

Inspired to holy ecstasy, 

Endowed with gifts divine, and tried 

By fire, and purged and purified, 

Wreathed with that Pentecostal flame 

That on the rapt disciples came. 

And glowing with supreme desire 

To speak with tongue and lips of fire. 

VIII. 

Few the disciples, few 
The ministers the blessed Master called 
A lost world to renew ; 
Not throned in lofty state, 
Nor in Cathedrals great, 
But in a world-wide fellowship were they 
installed. 

37 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Now, thousands in His name, 
For worldly pelf and fame, 
With school-taught eloquence his gospels 

preach. 
Vain organ prelude, vain 
The anthem's answering strain, 
And vain the stilted sermon to uplift and 

teach. 
Not dogma and not art, 
But the inspired heart 
A hungry world is yearning for to-day; 
An humble heart that shares 
All human ills and cares, 
And with the gospel's balm soothes guilt 
and grief away. 



IX. 



Parson, never mix 

Pulpit and politics. 

Nor exercise thine office chasing harlots 
from the town. 

Though this should bring thee fame, 

And glorify thy name, 

And decorate thy brow witli the reform- 
er's crown. 



38 



THE PARSON 

Till He shall come again 

Full many a Magdalen 

Shall point the accusing finger at her kin ; 

Treat thou the foul disease 

Whose symptoms such as these 

Tell of the canker knawing deep within. 

And in thy pulpit hold thy hand, beware 

Lest in reforming mood 

Caesar's things and things of God 

Thou minglest : Knowest thou what fruit 

such seed may bear? 
Ciesar's things let CfBsar tend; 
Grace be thine and joy to spend 
All thy strength and zeal the wounded soul 

to heal. 
CiBsar rules the state : 
Thy dominion great 
Lies in the heart and deals with motives 

there ; 
Rouse thou the conscience, try 
The heart till hand and eye 
Redeemed, reformed, in deeds make answer 

to thy prayer. 

X. 

One, of old, on Horeb stood 
Till the still, small voice of God 



39 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Spake the word and fired his eye 
With prophetic ecstasy. 
Parson, from the world apart, 
Listen thou with all thy heart 
Till that voice thy word reveal, 
Till His touch thy lips unseal. 
Many the name of Preacher bear, 
Few there be that minister, 
Bringing hope to them that stray 
Lost in Life's bewildering way. 
Soul physician, thou who art 
Skilled to treat the sin-sick heart, 
Minister to them that be 
Much in need of ministry. 
May the Spirit thee inspire. 
Touch thy lips with sacred fire. 
Ever from thine altars rise 
Incense of self-sacrifice. 
Lacking these, what need to search 
Why men do not go to church? 



40 



SONG FOURTH 



THE MOTORMAN 
I. 



i) 



'* Clang, Cling Clang, Cling Clang, 

Thus the trolley signal rang 

Through the busy street, 

Warning hurrying feet. 

Automobile, serious horse 

And! carriage in their devious course, 

Bicycle and laden dray, 

To clear the way 

For the common people's car, 

Shuttling near and rolling far 

On the people's errands bent, 

To the people's service lent. 



II. 



One 
On the platform stands alone, 
Powers of lightning in his grip, 
Hands that never fail nor slip 



43 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

From the levers, holding there 
Subject to his will the car: 
Faithful hands and eyes that gaze 
Straight ahead through busy ways, 
Striving ever safe to win 
Through the City's press and din, 
Brave, collected, quick and strong 
Guiding through the hurrying throng 
Precious freight of life and limb; 
Great the trust reposed in him, 
Wayfarer and Passenger 
Debtors to his skill and care. 



III. 

"What of him, this common friend, 
"When his years of toiling end? 
INIarked for swift dismissal by 
His trembling hand and dimming eye, 
This the guerdon, this the price 
Of unmeasured sacrifice. 
This the recompense, at last, 
For the years in service passed, 
Thrown aside as worthless, hurled 
To the scrap-heap of the world. 



44 



THE MOTORMAN 
IV. 

What a world of contrasts, ours ! 
Here the incense breathing flowers, 
There the venomed plant whose breath 
Fills the air around with death; 
Here the crystal brook is sped 
Gushing from the fountain head. 
There the angry torrent roars 
In its desolating course, 
Leaps its bounds and spreads amain 
Over fields of ripening grain, 
Ruthless in its foaming wrath, 
Fell destruction in its path; 
Here the plumaged warblers sing 
Welcome to returning spring. 
Bird and brook and flower and tree 
Voicing nature's rhapsody; 
There the wild blast tosses high 
The naked branch against the sky. 
Fierce the icy tempests blow 
Piling high the drifted snow; 
Here the yellow sunbeams chase 
The shadow round the dial's face. 
There the moon flings far and free 
Her shining pathway on the sea, 
And the star-beam, cold and bright 
Shimmers down the azure night. 

45 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

V. 

Greater contrasts far than these 
In the birds, the brooks, the trees, 
"Winter's snow and summer's bloom 
Sunbeam's glory, midnight's gloom, 
Shall the eye observant ken 
In the seething hearts of men, 
Love and hate and fierce desire, 
Cold despair and passion's fire; 
Here, the virtues fair abide 
Nurtured at the fireside, 
Lo! in shining troops they come, 
Gladdening the hearth and home; 
There the vices rule the hour, 
Greed of gain and lust of power, 
Anger rushing to fulfill 
Dictates of the selfish will, 
Vengeance burning to requite. 
Fierce to seize and swift to smite. 
Grasping avarice, strong to hold 
Lands and treasures manifold, 
Such a weird world round thee scan, 
Philosophic motorman. 

VI. 

Stranger things than these behold 
In the magic power of gold. 

46 



THE MOTORMAN 

See the ruffian lifted high, 
"While to land and magnify 
Suppliant crowds his steps attend, 
Potentates before him bend, 
Grasping in his greedy hands 
Fruit of toil from many lands, 
Serving none beyond himself 
In his mania for pelf. 
See, again, in lowly lot, 
By the eager world forgot. 
Him who gives in humble place 
Priceless service to his race. 
From thy toil what blessings flow; 
Commerce thrives and cities grow. 
Store and factory pvd. mart, 
Skilfull trade ?.nd useful art, 
Flourish where thy swift car speeds, 
Serving ever newer needs, 
These their tale of progress tell 
In the clanging of thy bell. 

VII. 

Sound the signal, speed the car, 
Shuttling near or rolling far, 
Linking city, field and wood 
In one grateful servitude 



47 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

To expanding human need; 
Mart of trade and flowery mead, 
Crowded square and level green, 
Park and Lake and Sylvan Scene, 
Grouped together by the tie 
Of the trolley flashing by, 
Serving, for the common good, 
All the prosperous neighborhood. 

VIII. 

In this weird world's vast design, 
Motorman, a part is thine. 
Humble though it seem to thee 
In that world's immensity. 
Purposeful the golden ray 
Ushers in the new-born day. 
Purposeful the star-beams bright 
Fling their radiance through the night. 
Through the boundless deeps of space. 
Star and sun their orbits trace. 
Moonbeams glisten, rain-drops fall 
By a law that guides them all. 
Time and season, shine and shower 
Bud and blossom, snow and flower. 
Vale and mountain, lakes and leas. 
Tides and torrents, brooks and seas. 



48 



THE MOTORMAN 

And the star whose vesper ray 
Flashes through the fading Day, 
Brightening in the deepening shade, 
These, and such as these were made 
To suggest the depth and height 
Of a purpose infinite. 
Through the world that purpose runs, 
Quenching planets, kindling suns, 
Shaping flower and tree and star 
And the hand that guides the car. 

IX. 

Study well the system vast 
Nature has around thee cast. 
How the things of time and space 
Work in their allotted place. 
All harmonious to fulfill 
Dictates of a sovereign will, 
Each on special mission sent, 
Each in special service spent, 
In that system this the test: 
Greatest, that which serveth best. 
Motorman, despise thou not. 
Though it lowly be, thy lot; 
When the angel shall compete 
Earth's prodigious balance sheet, 



49 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

And the inventory be 
Taken for eternity, 
Many a king witli glittering crown, 
Many a knight of fair renown, 
Blazoned name and lineage old, 
When the final tale is told 
May, perchance, thy service see 
Ranked above his pedigree. 



X. 



What suggestive echoes swell 
From the clanging of thy bell! 
'Mid the city's busy street, 
Eager throngs and hurrying feet. 
Ranging field and wood and glade 
In the sunshine or the shade, 
By the farm, the shop, the mill, 
In the dell or on the hill, 
Where the forge and furnace burn. 
And the lapsing waters turn 
Many a wheel of industry. 
Where the clattering shuttles fly 
In the noisy factory, 
Wheresoe'er in anxious strife 
Mortals play the game of life. 
There, in faithful service, are 
Motorman and trolley car. 



50 



THE MOTORMAN 

XI. 

Servant thou of high degree; 

Though thy meed a pittance be, 

Industry and progress bless 

Thy career of usefulness, 

Reaping benefits that sprang 

From the insistent trolley's clang. 

Knights are dubbed and kings are crowned, 

Titles of imposing sound 

Gild the churl and mask the fool 

In this world's weird carnival. 

Knighthood leal and true is thine. 

Though no glittering orders shine 

On thy shabby coat of blue 

Heart and hand and eye are true. 

Service is the trae knight's test, 

Greatest he that serveth best; 

Toil-worn hands are nobler far 

Than the ribbon and the star, 

In His sight whose wisdom still 

Moulds creation to his will, 

Marks, in hidden places dim, 

Faithful service Avrought for Him. 

XII. 

Blessings on the trolley car. 
Shuttling near or rolling far, 



51 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Bringing, at our will and mood, 

Society or solitude, 

Clanging now through crowds that wait 

Pent within the city's gate. 

Now, through field and wood it glides, 

Ranging quiet countrysides. 

Luxuries and comforts few 

The resourceful fathers knew; 

Prodigal abundance pours 

Blessings at their children's doors; 

Of them all we least could spare 

Motorman and trolley car. 



52 



SONG FIFTH 



THE EDITOR 

I. 

All the news that's fit to print 
Given for a paltry cent — 
And the news that isn't fit 
Much too often goes with it — 
All the news, what visions rise 
Of a boundless enterprise, 
Gathering from the world around 
Wheresoever man is found 
Tales of love and loss and strife, 
Graphic photographs of life. 
What amazing talents meet 
In the well conducted sheet: 
Learning, philosophic lore, 
Wit and humor, bubbling o'er. 
State-craft, song, theology, 
Diplomatic policy. 
Ethics, business, science, laws, 
Condemnation or applause 
For the deed, the word, the pen. 
Art or artifice of men, 



55 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

These, and many things beside, 
In thy musty sanctum hide. 
Biding till the spirit stir, 
All accomplished editor. 

II. 

To another world below 
This exalted scene we go, 
"Where the rabid vices meet 
In the ill-begotten sheet! 
Where the failure and the fraud. 
Eager, ravenous, stalk abroad. 
By the wage of scandal fed, 
By detraction earning bread; 
Lo ! in shabby troops they come. 
Gray-haired lecher, beardless bum, 
Refuse of Newspaperdom ; 
God-forsaken outcasts, these. 
Life's unsavory dregs and lees. 
While in solemn state apart, 
Skilled in literary art. 
Able, conscienceless and vile, 
Swift to slander and defile 
Honored name and honest fame 
With the venom of his blame, 
Sits the chiefest outcast, high 
In his editorial sty. 



56 



THE EDITOR 

Prostituted genius his, 
Glorying in filth and lies. 
Trailing white names in the dust, 
Traitor to a sacred trust. 

III. 

'Mid the potentates and powers 

Of this anxious world of ours. 

Never king in glory crowned, 

Never warrior renowned. 

Orator, whose winged word 

All a people's conscience stirred. 

Statesman, sent his land to bless 

Strong in lofty purposes. 

Gifted bard whose patriot tongue 

Freedom's song of glory sung 

Never one of these, nor all 

In the court, the camp, the hall, 

Knew the opportunity 

Time and fortune bring to thee. 

Grateful blessings to confer, 

Conscientious Editor. 

lY. 

Who, in influence, would dare 
With thy. pen his deeds compare, 



57 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Who of all could e*er combine 

Such an audience as thine? 

On the street 

Newsboys vend the welcome sheet; 

To the home, 

Day by day, its pages come; 

To the office, store and mill. 

Almshouse, state-house, hospital, 

To the crowded railway car, 

To the weary traveler, 

To the tramp. 

To the soldier in the camp, 

To the officers of state, 

To the merchant, small or great, 

To the transient crowds that dwell 

In the many roomed hotel. 

Everywhere it tells the news 

Gleaned for everybody's use 

From the wide-world, near and fai, 

From Africa and Zanzibar, 

From the islands of the seas, 

Australia and the Hebrides, 

From India and the dreamy East, 

From Europe and the strident West. 

From the Northland's fields of ice, 

From the Southland's balm and spice. 

58 



THE EDITOR 

How the monster presses whirl, 
How the paper rolls unfurl, 
To record and chronicle, 
All the swift dispatches tell, 
Stamping on the faithful page 
Pictures of a wondrous age. 



What suggestions pregnant start 
From thy gallery of art! 
How romantic fancies flow 
From thy daily picture-show ! 
Here, the mug 
Of some noted criminal, 
There the smug 
Countenance of banker fat. 
General, Admiral, Diplomat, 
Politician, Statesman wise 
Limned before our wondering eyes, 
These, from day to day, we meet 
In thy variegated sheet, 
Holding there high carnival. 
Many a rotund visage, too, 
Shows what medicine can do 
To obliterate disease — 
Miracles of physic, these. 



59 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Pictures of the recent dead, 
Pictures of the baby fed 
On some patent nectar, bride 
Ranged the smiling groom beside, 
Graphic pictures, deftly made 
Of the funeral or parade, 
Ceremony, festival. 
Wedding, launching, lynching, all 
Gathered in many a motley group 
By thy weird Kaleidoscope. 

VI. 

Editor, consider well 
Ere the doubtful tale you tell ; 
Deeper far than you may think 
Stains the smudge of printer's ink. 
Spoken word, like breath, is spent, 
Printed word is eloquent 
Wheresoever runs thy page 
Through a boundless clientage. 
Though thy journalistic glory 
Prompts to print the startling story, 
Though abundant "copy" be 
For thee a prime necessity. 
Let thy zeal importunate 



60 



THE EDITOR 

On thy sense of justice wait. 
Calumny is cruel, prone 
Falls the name it breathes upon, 
Blighted with that breath of hell, 
The printed page its oracle, 
Scattering broadcast far and nigh 
The fertile seed of obloquy. 

VII. 

What contrasted motives mix 

In the whirl of politics; 

Here pure zeal to serve the State 

Animates the candidate. 

There the fawning humbug spends 

All his strength for selfish ends, 

Seeking power, and place and pelf 

For the glory of himself. 

Here the patriot serves and toils, 

There, the seeker after spoils 

Lays his pipe and spreads his net 

Fees and sinecures to get. 

Editor, whatever betide 

True to thy high trust abide. 

Let no demagogue or fake 

From thy columns comfort take; 



61 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Let no party need or stress 
Tempt thee to unfaithfulness. 
Not on Party's shifting sands 
Pillared the Republic stands, 
But on the People's sovereign will, 
The official's faith, the pariot's zeal, 
Based and buttressed like the rock 
To withstand the tempest shock. 

VIII. 

Men, not principles, decay, 
Systems serve and pass away, 
Through all changing times and laws 
Still appeals the righteous cause. 
Justice is a holy name, 
Changeless, ever more the same, 
"Whose high-souled apostle must 
Above all else himself be just. 
Shall the humbug and the sham 
Lofty principles proclaim? 
Shall we deem for office fit 
Simply him who longs for it, 
Who by trick and low device, 
Plan and plot and artifice. 
Mocks the sober people's rule, 



62 



THE EDITOR 

Cheats and binds the common fool? 
True to principle, thy pen 
Yet may draw the line at men, 
Smashing the unworthy slate 
For the welfare of the State. 
Let the first condition be 
Of thy party fealty, 
Fitness in the men who claim 
Office in the party's name. 

IX. 

Prophet and Apostle, thou, 

King, though crownless be thy brow. 

Husbandman, whose hand hath hurled 

Seed through all the fallow world. 

Preacher of a gospel bold 

Uttering precepts manifold, 

May thy pen forever be 

Servant to humanity. 

Prophet! many a time and oft, 

Though thy word was jeered and scoffed. 

Did thy faithful pen foretell 

Shames and scandals foul that dwell 

In a bought electorate 

And a venal boss-ruled State. 



63 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Apostle ! bravely thou hast sought 

To undo the evil wrought 

By the Citizen's neglect, 

By venality unchecked. 

Frauds and thefts and trades and steals, 

Bribery and swaps and deals, 

By thy faithful pen laid bare, 

Seething in corruption there. 

King! in all the realms of men 

Never sceptre like thy pen, 

Never word from monarch's throne 

Potency like thine has known : 

Framing laws and moulding states 

Smashing policies and slates, 

Guiding parties, leading thought, 

Crowning high achievement wrought 

With the glory of thy praise. 

Ever through the nights and days 

Striving to attain and hold 

Common blessings manifold, 

For the people's common good, 

In thy time and neighborhood: 

Crownless though thy kingdom be 

It excels in majesty. 

X. 

From thy watch-tower, lifted high, 
Conning over earth and sky, 

64 



THE EDITOR 

Signal thou to us below 

While yet afar the tempests blow, 

Lest unwarned, the cloud burst fling 

Far and wide our harvesting, 

And the boisterous whirlwind's play 

Sweep our garnered sheaves away. 

Through the night 

May thy wisdom read aright 

What the signs and portents are 

Flashed across from star to star. 

XI. 

Focused in thy watchful eye 

Seas and shores and landscapes lie, 

Stretching shadowy and dim 

To the far horizon's rim. 

Myriad shapes and spectres pass 

The perspective of thy glass. 

Youth and age and want and wealth, 

Decreptitude, Disease and Health, 

Joy and Grief and Crimes and Shames, 

Pigmies swathed in pompous names. 

Kings to coronation led. 

Murderers to the scaffold sped, 

Soldier, statesman, jovial horde 

Gathered at the banquet board. 



65 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Parsons, lawyers, doctors, rakes. 
Cranks, philosophers and fakes. 
Halt and blind, and foul and clean, 
Sage and fool — an endless train, 
Hurrying pass in swift review 
Before thy busy camera, few 
Eemain for long, across the day 
From dark to dark they flit away. 

XII. 

Liberty thy grateful aid 

Shall own, and Justice undismayed 

Her shining balance true shall hold 

Beyond the touch of power or gold. 

If, for the right, to dare and do 

Thy conscience and thy pen are true. 

Of old the orator renowned, 

And poet-teacher, laurel crowned. 

In common service toiled and wrought. 

Uplifting men and moulding thought. 

Discarded in our later day, 

By new conditions thrust away, 

Their service in our larger age 

Hath fallen to thy teeming page, 

Whose far flung voice, through good and ill, 

Proclaims their ancient gospel still. 



66 



THE EDITOR 

Hail, then, apostle of our times! 

More potent thou than speech or rhymes 

To bid the best and wisest rise 

And mould a nation's destinies. 

Such blessings may thy pen confer, 

Evangelistic editor. 

Inspiring, earnest, bold and free. 

Thou our Chrysostom shalt be. 



67 



SONG SIXTH 



THE STENOGRAPHER 



Hook and eye and dot and dash, 

Ribbon, furbelow and sash, 

Smiling face and shining hair, 

Arms to dimpled elbow bare, 

In this faithful outline see 

Her stenographic majesty, 

Dainty, delicate and swift. 

Generous Fortune's crowning gift 

To the busy mind that bears 

Burdens manifold, and cares. 

Product of our modern life 

With its new inventions rife, 

With its hurry and its rush, 

With its hustle and its push. 

With its boundless enterprise, 

And its mighty energies 

Pulsing through a fervent age, 

Stamping on the eager page. 

Thoughts and pacts and plans and dreams. 

That which is and that which seems. 



71 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

11. 

'Mid the squalor and the glamor, 

And the never ceasing clamor 

Of our weird society, 

Still her faithful fingers ply 

Busy pencil, clicking key. 

In untiring ministry. 

Center of a lurid world, 

]\Iixed and twisted, tossed and twirled 

By contending hopes and fears, 

Triumphs, failures, joys and cares. 

High and low and small and great 

On her nimble fingers wait. 

Business, medicine and law, 

Letters, art and science, draw 

On her skill to seize and hold 

Thoughts and fancies manifold; 

Bargains, panaceas, pacts. 

Pleas, inventions, systems, facts, 

Spoken word recorded true, 

Oration, sermon, interview, 

On enduring pages live 

Through her art preservative. 

72 



THE STENOGRAPHER 

in. 

Though a mere maehine she seems, 
Visions hath she yet, and dreams. 
Oft her yearning heart doth miss 
Husband's smile and baby's kiss, 
All the joys and cares that come 
In the train of love and home, 
Hers the joy of service, hers 
All that valnod skill confers. 
Independence, self-respect. 
Leisure to pursue unchecked 
Culture, fad, accomplishment. 
Plenty, dignity, content. 
Freedom from domestic care ; 
Still she yearns for one to share 
All she has and is and feels, 
Still her woman's heart reveals 
All her boasted freedom cost, 
All her fruitless years have lost 
Missing life's supremest good — 
The ecstasy of motherhood. 
Sad her weary soul hath grown 
Wandering through the world alcne. 

73 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

IV. 

Swift the day-dreams come and go, 

Swift the endless copies flow 

"White and accurate and clean 

From the dexterous machine. 

Oft this faithful minister 

Wonders what we think of her; 

"What she thinks of us, I ween, 

Could with certainty be seen, 

If perchance our curious eye 

Peeped within her diary. 

Such a volume I possess 

Charming in its artlessness; 

Little dreamt the writer we 

Its unflattering page would see; 

Opening it betrays no trust, 

For the hand that wrote is dust. 

Wholesome glimpses it affords 

Of how she viewed creation's lords, 

Of our weakness taking note 

Things like these her highness wrote 



*'Boss has had another spell, 
Says the Court may go to — well, 



74 



THE STENOGRAPHER 

Need he tear about the place 

Just because he lost a case, 

Rant and scowl and fume and swear, 

Growling like a sulky bear, 

Call the Judge a stupid ass. 

Say, 'this is a pretty pass! 

Such another Judge as he 

Would make an end of liberty!' 

Now he's dictating a speech. 

My, how sweetly he does preach, 

Says the learned bench and bar 

Pillars of the nation are. 

Dubs each judge, exalted high, 

Paragon of purity, 

Says that he and such as he 

Of virtue must examples be, 

Praises high the golden rule, 

(Stops to call his clerk a fool) 

T can't make out upon my soul, 

The meaning of his rigmarole. 

VI. 

''Boss has nearly thrown a fit, 
IMy, but someone's in for it. 
The lofty speech he made last night 
'Twas my high privilege to indite. 



75 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Soaring high, he grandly said: 

'We toil not simply for our bread; 

Highest law, all laws above, 

Sacrifice, the law of love.' 

The luckless printer made him say, 

(The editor was sure away) 

'Highest paw, all paws above, 

Sacrifice the paw of love.' 

To give his speech a cultured touch 

Prom Shakespeare's works he quoted much, 

Spoke of youth's glory, manhood's noon. 

The lean and slippered pantaloon. 

The paper spoiled it : with a groan, 

He read 'the slobbered pantaloon.' 

Thank goodness that these changes slight 

Are not my fault; my copy's right." 

VII. 

''AH day, throughout cur business stress 
He raved about the 'pampered press,' 
Called it 'degenerate,' and drew 
A picture of 'the hireling crew 
Who write the humbug up to fame 
And smear with ink an honest name.' 
.Nn editor or. tv;o I know; 
The young reporters are not slow, 



76 



THE STENOGRAPHER 

But bright, and gladly take the hint 
When I would see my name in print. 
By accident, and not from spite 
They failed to get his old speech right, 
And often when he makes mistakes 
In English, they correct his 'breaks.' 
He called the editor a bull-head, 
Avowed his reputation sullied 
By malice of the fresh reporters, 
Of truth professional distorters." 

VIII. 

''Boss took me to the halls of state 

Wherein the lobby legislate, 

And showed me how the statesmen do 

'Just what the lobby tells them to. 

I went with him to a committee. 

Took down his speech of wondrous pity 

For sufferers from tuberculosis. 

For which he claimed the proper dose is 

Sunshine abundant and fresh air. 

God-given freely everywhere. 

I found there chiefly orators, 

Cigars and feet and cuspidors. 

Feet resting on the table polished. 

All dignity for ease abolished, 



77 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Men puffing sociable cigars 
And spitting at the cuspidors, 
And making such rank clouds of smoke 
I thought at times I'd surely choke. 
These things it seems the men of state 
Require to hear and legislate. 
The boss's speech and all the lot 
I copied, it was mostly rot. 
But all this twaddle, without stint, 
The papers had agreed to print; 
The boss will surely have a fit 
Unless his picture goes with it. 



IX. 



' * The head clerk thought he must propose ; 

I couldn't bear his horrid nose, 

So large and crooked, shapeless, speckled. 

With pimples here and there, and freckled ; 

Declined his offer thankfully 

But said I would his sister be. 

He spurned the offer, and got nasty, 

Remarked I'd better not be hasty 

In view of my advancing years, 

And left me to my angry tears. 

He's often been refused before 

And sisters has, I know, galore. 



78 



THE STENOGRAPHER 

Ah! well, I must the duty do 

That to humanity I owe. 

How could I reproduce that face 

In mercy to the human race? 

And yet it's sad to be alone. 

The busy years have come and gone 

And left their trace on cheek and brow, 

There's silver in my hair, I vow! 

If only a real man would come 

I'd fire this job for love and home!'' 



X. 



I close the diary and lay 

Its scribbled record safe away. 

Perchance, betimes, a happier pen 

May bring its page to light again. 

In times to come the critic sage 

Shall ruthless call our hurrying age, 

Whose steel-shod foot no difference owns 

'Twixt women, men and cobblestones. 

Exhausting every potent art 

To swell the head and stunt the heart. 

LDvingly we tend the flowers 

Through all the glowing summer hours. 

Well repaid for all our toil 

'Neath chilling skies, in stubborn soil. 



79 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

"When round the porch and in the home 
Their beauty and their fragrance come. 
But in our human garden fair 
Rank weeds are growing everywhere; 
We little reck what blight may reach 
The modest bloom upon the peach. 
And through the sun-lit summer hour 
We leave the garden's fairest flower 
Unwatered, unattended all 
To live or die as chance befall. 

XI. 

woman, in an age whose zeal 

Burns but for things material, 

What kindly hand thy growth shall tend, 

What kindly sky its moisture lend, 

Till thy rich fragrance fill the air. 

Thou fairest of the garden fair! 

Oh! for strong men to seize and hold 

Fair nature's offerings manifold, 

To grapple with the cares that throng 

Life's steep and rugged way along. 

Each caring for his precious brood 

In pride and joy of fatherhood. 

Not then should woman's life be sped 

In dreary drudgery for bread, 



80 



THE STENOGRAPHER 

Nor should the cradle be forgot, 
Forbidden to her hapless lot, 
The crooning mother's lullaby 
Lost to our modern minstrelsy. 
Come nobler age and happier, come 
And consecrate the joys of home, 
When men by manhood's impulse led 
Shall build the home and win the bread, 
And women dwell content to share 
His burdens and his blessings there. 
For that blest age we've waited long. 
Oh! that our men again were strong! 



81 



SONG SEVENTH 



THE LAWYER 

r. 

Shaven face and shining pate, 
Heavy jowl and mien sedate, 
Bulging stomach, pipe-stem shank, 
Half philosopher, half crank, 
Crammed with maxims wise and saws, 
Digests, instances and laws, 
In this sketch, though rude it be. 
The discerning eye may see 
Legal light of high degree. 
Round this jurisconsult stand. 
Clustered, many a motley band, 
Mingling in one brotherhood 
Every type of bad and good. 
Shysters, tricksters, liars, cheats, 
Pimps, suborners, panders, beats ■ . 
Orators and scholars, too, 
Shining in the shabby crew, 

85 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Honor, truth and loyalty 
Cheek by jowl with knavery, 
Striker, corporation tool, 
Pedant, wiseacre and fool. 
Sinner, saint and publican, 
Here and there a gentleman, 
Grouped and bound together all 
By the tie professional ; 
These, the grave and learned bar, 
Great Astraea's minions are. 



II. 



Goddess of the righteous, thou 
With level eyes and thoughtful ])row 
From thy throne exalted high 
Doing ever equity, 
Poising nightly in the blue 
Shining scale and balance true, 
Testing with impartial ken 
Deeds and characters of men, 
Tell me, goddess, now, I pray. 
Why from earth thou fledst away. 
Tjeaving all thy chaste decrees 
In such prentice hands as these. 
Compassing the genesivS 
Of such a motley brood as this"? 



86 



THE LAWYER 

Listen, goddess, while I tell 
What unmeasured woes befell 
Since thy journeying afar 
Regents made of bench and bar: 

III. 

Now in thy stead we have ''the law," 
In Babel jargon glorying, 
Pretending to respect and awe, 

A poisoned spring, 
Where IMalice dips his eager claw. 

And Fraud, her sting. 
And who be these who gather there 
Around this muddy fountain, they 
AVith hungry eyes and scanty hair. 

Who day by day 
Stir all its turliid depths of care 

For those who pay? 
Not as of old the angel stirred 
Bethesda's healing pool to bring 
Hope to the helpless sick who heard 

The rustling wing; 
But, rather, for a fee conferred, 

Its mud to fling. 
Professors of a science, these. 
Developed down the ages far, 



87 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Interpreting the LaAv's decrees, 

And called "the bar," 
Subtle in sophistries and pleas — 

These lawyers are. 
Here, too, the jury, potent arm 

Of Justice, the befuddled twelve, 
Gathered from tlie workshop, desk and farm, 

Untaught, to delve 
In mysteries of right and wrong 
That to the Jurist trained belong; 
How shall the axe hew straight and strong 

With crooked helve? 



lY 



Once, in a volume quaint and old. 
While here and there its pages turning, 
T came to where the author told 
In frankest phrase his views concerning 
The law and lawyers, and decried 
The bar, and railed and cavilled at it. 
Declared through all the countryside 
No row but lawyer's tongue- begat it; 

Then v/axing warmer with excitement 

He thus preferred his fierce indictment': 
"Source of all cur wees and tears',' 
Setting neighbors by the ears, 



88 



THE LAWYER 

Tumult, strife and war fomenting. 

Order, peace, content preventing, 

Lo ! the lawyers, waxing great, 

Wreck the home, divide the state. 

While supine society. 

Groaning pays the heavy fee! 

Speak, memory, from the fadeless years, 

From deathful fields of blood and glory, 

Tell who begot the woes and fears, 

The battles gory! 

The wrack and carnage, griefs and tears. 

That fill the story ! 



V. 



"Some treaty, protocol, decree, 
Or constitution's phrase, may be, 
Is brought in question, on each side 
The hungry legal ranks divide, 
The lawyers quarrel ; lo ! the race 
Falls into faction, near and far. 
With seething heart and demon face 

Men rush to war, 
While looking on from safest place 

Chuckles 'the. bar.' 
The Bar, thou ancient humbug! how 
From thy fierce clutch shall man be free, 



89 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

From trick and wile and cunning show 

Of Equity? 
Befuddling, with thy jargon, laws 
Designed to aid the righteous cause. 
For fees forever finding flaws 

Where none should be. 
Opposing precedents and saws 

To just decree! 
How long shall man endure thy tricks. 
In statecraft, statute, politics. 
And swallow all thy deft hands mix 

And call it 'Law,' 
And bow before thy phrase prolix 

In humble awe?" 

VI. 

Thus the curious pages ran 
Rampant on the "rights of man," 
Trac^'ng pll our burdens sore 
To the wicked Lawyer's door. 
Mingling in distempered view 
Recklessly the false and true. 
How one -rascal-'s tainted name 
Frino-s his honored guild to shame. 
Staining-' with Iiis turpitude 
Fair renown of just and good. 



90 



THE LAWYER 

Thus, the embattled lawyers stand 

Glorious, but a mud-stained band. 

Creditors of all the race 

For the great things brought to pass 

By their toil, for blessings wrought 

By their strenuous battles fought 

'Gainst oppression's ruthless power, 

Faithful in the darkest hour 

Right and Liberty have known, 

Boldly at the tyrant's throne. 

Casting gauge of battle down. 

From age to age. from height to height. 

Bearing Freedom's banner bright; 

Yet their name is scoffed and jeered. 

Hated, doubted, scorned and feared. 

For the web of evil spun. 

And the wrong and outrage done, 

Py the Ishmaels who claim 

Title to the Lawyer's name. 

VII. 

From the flames had Sodom been 
Saved, if but a righteous ten, 
Strong in rectitude, had stood 
To redeem the neighborhood. 
Thousands upon thousands stand 
To redeem the legal band 



91 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

From aspersions foul that mar 
The escutcheon of *'the bar." 
Through the web of human story, 
Through the ages' shame and glory, 
Hidden now, now brightly shining. 
With its fibre intertwining 
Human hopes and aspirations. 
Loftiest aims of men and nations, 
Runs the Law, in strands of light, 
Down the pattern infinite. 

VIII. 

Rising ever and again 
To redress the wrongs of men, 
Through the wonder weaving years 
With their gifts of hopes and fears, 
Comes the jurist, bold and free. 
Apostle-guide to liberty. 
Humbler service, too, is his 
'Mid the world's perplexities. 
Man of many functions, how 
Could we do without thee, now? 
Every problem of the age 
Doth thy teeming brain engage. 
Business method and resource^ 
Compacts, marriages, divorce, 



92 



THE LAWYER 

Corporations, bills and pleas, 
Rights of ships upon the seas, 
Railroads, trolleys, steamboats, all 
On thy boundless wisdom call. 
Ruler, Statesman, Law-maker, 
To thy learned word defer. 
Statutes thou must read aright 
Keeping old and new in sight, 
Bearing up the righteous cause 
Through the flood of bungled laws. 

IX. 

Near to all of us thou art 

In our private life apart; 

Testament, bequest, estate 

On thy faithful counsel wait. 

Frankly we confide to thee 

Where the rotten branches be 

In the boasted family tree, 

Frankly seek thy aid to hide 

Where it safely may abide 

The hideous family skeleton, 

Prone to show its grinning face 

At some awkward time or place. 

Much we owe thy skill to keep 

From common gaze our poor black sheep, 



93 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Our little circle's erring one, 

By some perverse mischance undone, 

And, luckless, fashioned to express 

The faults and follies of a race. 

These, and many things beside. 

Sacred, in thy hands abide; 

Strong and true those hands must be, 

Greatly we confide in thee. 



Clever jurist, honest man 
Skilled and cosmopolitan, 
Much the lowly and the high 
Owe thy faithful ministry, 
Serving now the thankless State, 
Lavishing thy talents great 
On the weighty problems vast 
Which thy skill must solve at last. 
Now with heart and mind intent 
On some doubtful testament, 
Counseling, restraining, leading. 
Laws interpreting, and pleading, 
Battling for the right always, 
Passing thus the busy days. 
This increasing load of care 
Must thy ample shoulders bear — 



94 



THE LAWYER 

This and more: around thee stand 
Clustered all the legal band, 
Every shade of bad and good, 
Rascality and Rectitude, 
Gathered in one brotherhood. 
Skill and honor here and there, 
Shames and scandals everywhere, 
Here a genius, there a chump, 
Thou must leaven all the lump. 
Up to thy high standards draw 
All the practice of the Law, 
Teaching all the motley crew 
By precept and example, too. 

XI. 

Man of many burdens, thou 

With mien sedate and thoughtful brow. 

Prone at times to fads and whims. 

Yet no crochet ever dims 

Judgment sound and purpose true 

To the real end in vie^v 

Or thy varied clientele. 

Shrines and fanes to Equity, 

Building new, yet holding fast 

To the maxims of the past, 



95 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

^lay thy faithful labors be 

Blessed to all humanity! 

May thy fruitful work redress 

Wrongs, and make for righteousness, 

Whether for the public weal 

Or thy varied clientele. 

Fame shall never chaplet weave 

For the work thy hands achieve, 

Nor the laurel wreath bestow 

On thy worn and thoughtful brow; 

Lacking thanks, and soon forgot 

All thy tireless skill has wrought: 

Laws and constitutions framed, 

Rights and liberties proclaimed, 

Peoples led and states renewed 

By thy wise solicitude, 

Guided on from height to height 

Into liberty and light. 

These, thy works, shall speak for thee 

Though thy name forgotten be. 

Clear of vision, stout of heart. 

Salt of all the earth thou art; 

States and Times to come shall be 

Savored of thy quality. 

Such the faithful service done 

By Astraea's loyal son; 

Such as he redeem the fame 

Of the bar's bedraggled name. 

96 



SONG EIGHTH 



]VIY STAR 

I. 

Behind the west the shrouded sun is grieving, 
The shadows darken round the listening trees, 

And night, the enchantress, over all is weaving 
The magic of her sounds and silences. 



II. 



night, to thee shall yearning mortals render 
The homage of enraptured souls and pay 

Their grateful tribute to the moonbeam's splendor, 
The whispering zephyr and the starry ray. 



III. 



Gone is the Day, the clamor and the striving 
And cares that vex the patient soul no more; 

While nature hymns new harmonies of living 

From murmuring sands and the resounding shore. 



99 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 
IV. 

Far o'er the lea the beauty breathing flowers 
Their many scented fragrances distil. 

Far in the deeps, through all the dreamy hours, 
The starry wanderers sink behind the hill. 

Y. 

And Earth and Air and Sky and Sea combining 

The ecstasy of being to express, 
Illumine all the path we tread, repining, 

With tender glory of their loveliness. 



VI. 



Far through the night, in many a cluster gleaming, 
The star-worlds fling their radiance divine, 

On snows and flowers and jaded mortals beaming — 
Celestial guides — and one of them is mine. 

VII. 

Out of the East the wisdom seeking sages. 
Led by a star, are to the manger come ; 

And I, vain wanderer through these later ages, 
My star must follow to arrive at home. 



100 



MY STAR 
VIII. 

Long have I sought it 'mid the sons of morning, 
Long scanned the zenith of the midnight skies; 

Lo! in the western deeps, the night adorning, 
I find it shining, bright with destinies. 



IX. 



Not o'er the mountain-heights of high endeavor. 
Nor yet above the palaces of Pride, 

Nor at the gates of Pleasure, pauses ever 
My pilot star, my monitor and guide. 



Deep in the noisesome valley, voices crying 
With babel clamors all the spaces fill ; 

The air around is heavy with their sighing. 
Above its gloomy depths my star stands still. 



XL 



Here must I seek tlie keys of Knowledg^j striving 
Through lowly service blessings to command; 

To way-worn brothers on Life's pathway giving 
The kindly counsel and the helping hand. 



101 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 
XII. 

Not in the Court of Kings my lofty mission. 
Nor in the martial host to g\ory led, 

But in tho doptlis whoro want ai)palls tlic vision, 
And sti'Ui^ii'linij: bi-otliei's di'udi^c^ for daily bread. 

xirr. 

Here let me toil, in saerifiee, disdaining 

Ambition's vaunt and Pleasure's s\vvu song; 
Here let me strive, with valiant heart maintaining 
The battle of the weak against the strong. 

XIV. 

Through nnirk and mist 1 hear the bugles blowing. 

I see the tossing bannei's lifted high. 
And tlirough the dai'k my faitliful stai* is throwing 

Its i-ay of hope, its pledge of victoi'y. 



XV 



Not always Wrong shall win, nor yet forever 
Opprclssion hold a conquered world in thrall; 

Prevailing Truth the grievous l)onds shall sever 
And Right shall reign triumphant over all. 



102 



MY STAR 
XVI. 

Vor this T sfx'nd my puny stn'n<^11i, 1,li()iif»h smitten 
With ^ficvoiis woinuis {ind honorahh; scnrs, 

Fulfillinj^^ Jill my (h'stiny dccj) written 
Tn mystic liier()<j^ly|)hi('s of tiie stnrs. 

XVII. 

For this f ennie, from out the l)onn(lh'ss sp.'iees. 

To ruin^j^h' in liife's ph;int;isy, and [)lMy 
My litth' part amid the mi<j:lity pliasos 

or Time and Sense, and world hirth and decay. 

XVTTT. 

Ilen^ have \ built min(f altar, hero, appealing: 
To Faith and TFope, my shrine and temple rise; 

In righteous thoui^lit and kindly deed revealin^^ 
The beauty and the joy of sacrifice. 

XIX. 

Soon homeward sliall [ wend my way, returning 
To whence I came, my pilot star, above, 

Tn brighter splendor o'er my pathway burning, 
Whose ray is rapture and whose name is Love. 



103 



SONG NINTH 



A SONG OF LIFE 



Deep broods the night upon the dismal way 

My weary feet are treading and have trod; 
Before, behind, through deepening darkness, stray 

My chance companions on the fearful road. 
Fain would I greet them with some word of cheer, 

Fain listen, breathless, for some glad reply; 
Their babblings vain and strange alone I hear. 

My broken voice can utter but a cry. 



II. 



Babel of tongues and loud confusion dire 

Fill with rude clamor all the echoing air, 
And lightnings thrust their venomed darts of fire 

Through glooms of fear and storm-wrack of despair. 
Whence came I here, by what unknown decree 

Condemned to wander through the starless night, 
Where thick around my fellow phantoms be 

That vex the skies with groanings for the light. 

107 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 
III. 

Slow lapsings of the heavy laden hours, 

And slow corrodings of Decay and Care. 
And sloAver pulsings of my wasting poAvers, 

And heavier growing burdens, hard to bear, 
These mark the stages of my pilgrimage 

Along Life's bleak and rugged mountain side 
TTow shall I cross where foaming torrents rage, 

Or scale the icy cliff mthout a guide? 



IV. 



Answer, night, whose billomng darkness hides 

The end and the beginning, answer, thou 
Within whose vast, unfathomed shade abides 

The fate of all things earth-born, speak and show 
The past and future, whence I came, and why 

Tliis groping through the darkness to and fro. 
This cruel doom of living but to die, 

This questioning, this yearning but to know. 



Y. 



Ah ! memories of the fresh and fragrant morn. 
And dews that glistened on the opening flower, 



108 



A SONG OF LIFE 

And nights in whose still deeps the stars were born, 
And days whose sunshine sped the joyous hour; 

High noons when manhood's pulse beat fierce and 
strong, 
And throbbed its challenges to fate, and grew 

In conscious strength the mystic way along. 

Where Life flung forth its teeming w^onders new ! 



VI. 



What have I gained for all this countless loss 

Of Youth's bright visions and of Manhood's might, 
What but these mists of doubt my way across. 

These dismal exhalations of the night, 
Before whose chilling breath fair Faith hath fled, 

And loves and joys and dreams of bliss depart, 
And ghosts of hopes that 'neath the years lie dead 

Like mournful phantoms all around upstart ! 



YII. 



And faint and far away the voices call 
From the dim vista of the bygone days, 

Whose tones on eager ears were wont to fall. 
Now all unmindful of their blame or praise. 

What boots this gift of knowledge which denies' 
All else but what we see and hear and feel. 



109 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

This earth-born longing for the thing that lies 
In the small world that time and sense reveal! 

VIII. 

How vain the hope with these poor, puny hands 

To mould decrees and fashion destinies, 
With human art to loose Orion's bands, 

Or weave the tangle of the Pleiades! 
Beyond this realm of sense and time, and far 

Beyond the round horizon's utmost rim. 
Where never ray of sun or sheen of star 

Hath shimmered through the spaces vast and dim, 



IX. 



Lies that substantial world of which we deem 

Our own is but the shadow, there alone 
Dwells that Eternal Energy whose beam, 

Through the wide universe of Nature thrown. 
Shapes flower and tree and star, and Life's fantastic 
dream. 

Here, cumbered with this prison garb of clay. 
My broken spirit falters and repines, 

A pilgrim wanderer o'er an unknown way 
It builds of hopes and fears its tottering fanes and 
shrines. 



110 



A SONG OF LIFE 
X. 

Yet in the Soul's vast solitude there dwells 

Some solace for its loneliness, a fire 
Whose deathless flame the gloom around dispels 

And cheers the fainting heart with new desire — 
That yearning for a larger life, unbound 

By the rude fetters of the things we see, 
Tn whose inspiring ecstasy is found 

The spirit's hope, its pledge of immortality. 

XI. 

And gifts, at times that holy yearning bears 

Of dreams and visions of a life to be, 
A life bereft of sordid pains and cares 

Wherein the expanding soul shall know its destiny — 
A life untrammeled by the cruel thrall 

Of Time and Sense and pestilent Decay, 
Where fadeless jMorning's incense breathes through all 

The sunlit reaches of the deathless day. 

XII. 

Then voices speak whose mystic words are heard 
By the rapt spirit, tones whose accents cool 

Life's fevered pulse, as when the angel stirred 
The healing waters of Bethesda's pool. 



Ill 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

In such an hour Earth's teeming mystery 

Enshrouds me with its wonders, nature gives 

Her touch of magic to the fragrant lea, 

And o'er the enchanted scene her web of beauty 
weaves. 

XIII. 

In such an hour, by wayward longings led, 

My eager soul would wander, far and free, 
Through visions of the universe outspread 

In ever changing worlds of fantasy. 
And one such vision would I here recall 

"While yet the spell is on me, ere the day 
With rude, insistent clamor comes, and all 

The shapes of Dreamland melt and pass away. 

XIV. 

Perchance herein the heavy laden heart 

Some comfort for its loneliness may find. 
Some tender flowers of Faith and Hope upstart 

With gifts of healing for the tortured mind. 
Here waiting till the clouds of incense lift 

Their veil from altars where the Holiest dwells, 
I mingle with the worshipers and drift 

From shrine to shrine where prayer its human yearn- 
ing tells. 

iia. 



A SONG OF LIFE 
XV. 

Full well of old, when facing martyrdom, 

Spake the Greek Sage with his expiring breath: 

"To any good man never harm can come, 
Either in this brief life or after death." 

Believing this I wander forth again 

Among my fellows, mingling with the throng 

That crowds the weird, mysterious path of men. 
Bearing my gift of cheer to weak and strong. 
And haply some there be will listen to my song: 

XVI. 

That song shall tell the thoughts that visit me 

In restful shadows of the dying day, 
When harmonies of earth and sky and sea 

My sorrows soothe and charm my fears away; 
And sweet and low the vesper voices chide 

My wanton spirit's doubting and despair. 
And throbbing through the hush of eventide. 

With benedictions thrill the listening air: 

spirit, prisoned for a while in clay. 

To thee these voices speak, give heed to what they say 



413 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

The Vesper Voices. 

An ancient church its sturdy belfry rears, 

Rocked by the storms of nigh three hundred years. 

Before its pillared porch and paneled doors 

A busy city's thronging commerce pours. 

Behind, the church-yard's crumbling headstones greet 

The curious wanderer from the crowded street. 

The tangled grass the fitful breezes stir 

On shapeless mound and mouldering sepulchre. 

Here sleep the dead, whose time-worn marbles show 

Their names and lineage in the long ago. 

The high and low, the rich and poor, the great, 

The humble, and the favorite of Fate, 

The true and false, the selfish and the just, 

Lie here commingling in a common dust. 

Straying, one day, by vagrant impulse led 

Within these precincts, sacred to the dead, 

I marked a spot, by mosses overgrown. 

And knelt to read the inscription on the stone. 

Two centuries and more had not effaced 

The tribute hands, now dust themselves, had traced. 

In memory of the long- forgotten dead; 

The name, the age, and then this verse I read : 

"Nature he loved, and every wind that blew 

Its message brought and stirred his heart anew. 



114 



A SONG OF LIFE 

In winter's snow and summer's fragrant air 

He saw alike the faithful Father's care, 

And bird and brook and star and flower and sea 

Unto his listening soul made melody. 

Hence shall he rise and pass to life from death, 

With Love his guide and Faith his shibboleth." 

Ah, loyal heart that loved and wrought 

Through storm and stress of vanished years, 
And strong in faith some glimpses caught 

Of glory through the mists of tears; 
willing soul, that bravely trod 

Life's weird and doubt-beclouded path, 
And, hope-uplifted, spurned the sod, 

Rejoicing in the aftermath ! 
Full many a spring hath bloomed and flown, 

Since in the flesh he walked with men ; 
A thousand moons have dimmed and shone, 

And yet, he cometh not again. 
The snows and dews awake him not, 

Nor roar of Traffic's busy ways; 
And joy and care and grief forgot, 

He sleepeth through the nights and days. 
We, who a little longer stray 

Amid the soul-encircling gloom. 
Still fearful, tread the beaten way 

That led to this neglected tomb. 



115 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

What boots the wisdom of the wise, 

The boast of science and of art? 
We sound the seas and pierce the skies, 

And feed with hnsks the hungry heart; 
We rear our pantheons and fill 

The treasure-house with golden store, 
We reap the harvest vast, and still 

Our eager hands would compass more. 
Yet far and wide our temples rise, 

We build the altar and the shrine; 
Though Hope prepare the sacrifice, 

Our faltering Faith demands a sign. 
hunger of the heart, whose pang 

Through all the story of the years, 
Since first the stars together sang, 

Hath pierced the sonl with doubts and fears. 
Not wisdom's pride, nor learning's lore, 

Nor wealth's proud palace builded high, 
Nor treasure-houses running o'er 

Shall e 'er that yearning satisfy ! 
Age, whose Pride and Greed forget 

The boundaries of Right and Wrong, 
The living Harp shall rouse thee yet. 

To listen to the minstrel's song! 
Too long our eager feet have strayed 

Where commerce rules the crowded mart; 

116 



A SONG OF LIFE 

Too long the lust of gold betrayed 
The nobler yearnings of the heart. 

for the pipes, whose notes of old 
Enchanted all the listening air, 

Or harp that Israel's longings told 

In rhapsodies of praise and prayer! 

for some minstrel touch to wake 

The slighted heart's neglected strings 
Some winged word the spell to break 

"When false the sordid siren sings ! 
Shall storied Art her glories spend 

To gild the grossness of the times? 
Or Poesy her numbers lend 

To give a softer name to crimes? 
Shall the neglected Harp deplore 

The discord of her tarnished strings, 
Or Love to gracious Beauty pour 

Libations from polluted springs? 
Still for our need the Morning's glow 

And listening Evening's sunset bars. 
And summer's bloom and winter's snow. 
And nightly congress of the stars. 
And still the heart repines, and sighs 

Its diapason of despair; 
Still from a thousand temples rise 

The myriad voices of its prayer. 



117 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Still pants the soul of man to ^ess 

The riddle each must solve alone; 
From nothingness to nothingness 

He walks unknowing and unknown — 
A shadow on the dial cast. 

To vanish when the day is done, 
A spectral shape that stalketh past 

The circle of the setting sun. 
Be these thy themes, reviving Art, 

And these, awakening bard, be thine; 
Our grossness, greedy of the mart. 

Let Beauty purge and Song refine. 
Ah, pilgrim of that earlier day. 

Whose headstone bears the graven line, 
Would that my doubting heart could say 

Thy faith and hope in truth were mine! 
And yet for me the breezes blow, 

The seasons bring the snows and flowers 
Like thee, I walk the earth and go 

To sleep beneath the stars and showers. 
While by thy grave I linger near. 

Still musing on the by-gone days, 
Within the church I seem to hear 

The voice of prayer and psalm of praise. 
Methinks with thee I wander far 

In the quiet of the eventide, 

118 



A SONG OF LIFE 

And greet with thee the rising star, 

And hear thy footfalls at my side. 
I feel great Nature's touch, and lo! 

My doubtings and my fears depart; 
My quickening pulses catch the glow 

And fervor of her mighty heart. 
There standing, in the thoughtful hour. 

When night and day each other greet, 
I question of the star and flower 

And sod that teems beneath my feet; 
Sweet messages of hope they bear, 

Sweet solace to my grief and fear. 
Their voices fill the brooding air 

With whisperings of faith and cheer. 
So here, with faltering hand, I write 

These fragments of a fitful lay. 
That other wanderers through the night 

May learn what Nature's voices say: 

The far-off murmur of the seas, 
The stillness of the listening trees. 
Empurpled evening's twilight bars. 
The first faint shimmering of the stars, 
The hush that marks the dying day 
As shape and shadow melt away. 
Commingling in the gathering gloom, 
Proclaim that Night and Rest have come. 



119 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 



What voice, o^er hill and dale repining, 

Bemoans the Day 

Whose latest ray- 
Behind the west is faintly shining, 
And sighs, o'er vale and mountain far 
Its challenge to the evening star? 
It is the Avind of night; 
O'er farthest height, 
Through deepest glen, 
It wanders from the haunts of men. 
Seeking the hidden Day. 
Away, away, 

It roameth through the deeps of night 
Yearning for light. 
O'er thousand cities of the dead 
It moans, seeking the life that's fled. 
Asking of mouldering heap and crumbling 

stone 
"Where have they gone, 
Where do they wait, 
Who erstwhile wove their thread of fate 
Through warp and woof of human story, 
Tinging its web with shame or glory. 
Feeding Time's wonder- weaving loom 
With strands of light or threads of gloom- 
With love whose glorious pattern glows 
In colors of the sunset bars, 

120 



A SONG OF LIFE 

Serene and fadeless as the stars, 
And pure as winter's drifting snows, 
Or yet with Hate, whose touch of blight 
Marks with its stain the shuttle's flight? 
Say, where are those whose flying feet 

Life's flower-strewn pathway danced alont 
Rejoiced the fragrant hours to meet 

With gladsome laughter and with song? 
The happy ones of yesterday. 

Pulsing with Love and Passion's fire, 

Glowing with Youth's supreme desire, 
Answer, ye dismal mounds, and say 
In all their beauty, where are they? 
And those who wrought in field and dell, 

And hewed upon the mountain-side. 

And dared the ocean's heaving tide. 
And delved earth's treasures forth to bring. 

And made the echoing anvil ring 
The cunning of their art to tell? 
And those the grimy factory knew 

From blush of morn till evening's shade. 
Whose stolid faces paler grew 

In haunts where sunbeam never strayed? 
And those of happier lot who wrought 

In crowded mart, and those, again, 
The Senate and the forum taught 

To wield dominion over men — 



121 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Answer, ye dismal mounds, and say. 

Where are these toilers hid away? 
Silent the mounds of drifted clay, 

Silent the cold and crumbling stone ; 
Silent the cypress branches sway 

And listen to the night-wind's moan; 
Silent the night-cloud, hanging low 

Upon the far horizon's brim — 
Behind, the star-beams faintly glow 

Along its vast and shadowy rim. 
Slowly before the starry ray 

The dismal vapor melts away. 
And then, across the wide earth far. 

The shimmering splendors of a star; 
With joy its pregnant beams distil 

The darkness on the solemn hill; 
They glitter on the dewy leas, 

And quiver through the cypress trees; 
Each mound they touch with soft caress. 

And gleam on every mournful stone 
Whose graven tribute would make known 

The wealth of human tenderness, 
And down the night-^vind riding far 

They bear this message from the star: 
''Stay, stay, thou wandering wind," it says, 
''and listen. 

And bear o'er forest, vale and field and height, 



122 



A SONG OF LIFE 

Where'er the dews fall or the star-beams glisten, 

The weird and solemn voices of the night. 
Wherever o'er the wide earth Pain and Sorrow 

And Pestilence and Want and Fear hold sway ; 
Wherever yearning heart and faint would bor- 
row 

Some ray of hope to cheer its lonely way. 
Wherever pilgrims o'er life's pathway faring 

Some key to its vast mystery would find, 
The strong and weak, the hoping and despairing. 

Bear thou these voices, swift and kindly wind. 
bear them where the earnest heart is straying 

Through labyrinths of unbelief and gloom, 
Wherever doubt is rife and faith decaying. 

Or hope is lost, or earth contains a tomb." 
The night wind listens: Hope and Faith upris- 
ing, 

Their shining forms aside the shadows fling ; 
With gentle voice, the silence surprising. 

They speak, and these the messages they 
bring. 

(first voice.) 

(what hope SAITH to the disconsolate HEART:) 

Disconsolate and lone I look 
Upon the twilight's purple rim, 

123 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

I hear the gurgle of the brook, 

I see the mountain's outline dim. 
Deepens the shadow on the hill ; 

Deeper the darlaiess in my breast — 
The sorrows of the years, that fill 

The measure of my soul's unrest. 
cheerless chambers of the heart, 

When loves are dead and hopes expire! 
No more shall Rapture's flame upstart, 

Or Beauty kindle warm desire. 
The bitter ashes gray and cold 

On each deserted hearthstone lie. 
Together, silent, bent and old. 

We shiver there. Remorse and I. 
The waste of all the fruitful years. 

The gnarled trunk and nnked bouech. 
Phantoms of hopes and ghosts of fears, 

Ah, these alone are left me now! 
The blush of morn, the noontide glow 

Of conscious manhood's faith and might 
Have dimmed and fled aw- ay. and slow 

The shadows deepen into night. 
sad and bitter hour of age. 

palsied hand and dimming lock ! 
Fill out, my heart, the blotted page 

Ere yet the angel close the book. 

124 



A SONG OF LIFE 

Write there some little word of love, 
Some gentle deed in kindness done, 
Some heavenly impulse from above 

Some holy sacrifice begun. 
I look around, above, below, 

On star and flower, on earth and sea — 
The far and star-lit spaces glow 

That what is mine may come to me. 
The bright seas roll from shore to shore 

Their white-capped billows, far and free, 
The glad earth yearns to spend her store 

That what is mine may come to me. 
The dark red rose its censer swings 

Of perfume from its h^^vf of fire. 
And far aroun'i in bi-r.ity, liings 

The fragrance of its deep desire. 
The lily spreads its petals white 

And pure upon the eager air, 
T Unsullied by the touch of blight. 

Stainless as snow and chaste as prayer. 
They strive, the star, the flower, the sea. 

That w^hat is mine may come to me. 
And what is mine? In years gone by 

I sat beside the moaning sea. 
And watched, with wistful heart and eye, 

For treasure ships to come to me. 

125 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

I yearned for yellow heaps of gold, 

For jewels rare and gems of fire, 
And these, my vacant heart, I told 

Would satisfy its fierce desire. 
Though many a snowy sail I see 

Upon the far horizon's rim, 
The billows sweep them far from me 

Across its misty circle dim. 
Far on, far on, to other shores, 

Each rushing, eager prow is set, 
And soon behind its foaming course 

The waters and the skies are met. 
And on and on, across the light 

The spreading sails are swiftly prest, 
To some fair port beyond the night, 

Some happy island of the blest. 
Ah, not for me the bright seas lend 

Their favoring breezes fair and free, 
Nor Time, nor Tide, nor Fortune send 

My treasure-laden argosy. 
They are not mine, these golden stores 

That men call riches — vain for me 
To linger on the vacant shores 

And scan the reaches of the sea. 
Nor yet for me the dream of Power, 

Nor Glory's idle boast nor Fame, 

126 



A SONG OF LIFE 

Whose lustre gilds the transient hour 

With fickle splendors of a name. 
glittering bauble, falsely bright. 

How vain, how impotent to bless — 
A meteor's flash across the night. 

Whose goal and end is nothingness ! 
But mine the joy of service, mine 

To labor on through storm and strife. 
And build in hope and faith the shrine 
And temple of a noble life. 
And like the mystic ladder, bright 

With angel forms, that one of old 
Beheld far stretching through the night 

Its shining length and steps of gold; 
And as the busy insect weaves 

From its own vitals, firm and true, 
The fabric of its home and leaves 

The shining web upon the dew; 
So, toiling on, in sacrifice, 

My deeds of love shall shine afar, 
The ladder of my labors rise 

From height to height, from star to star. 
Ah, this is mine, in joy to spend 

Each gift and talent freely given. 
To serve, to succor, to befriend, 

And build my ladder up to heaven, 

127 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

There angel forms shall come and go, 

And angel helpers hover nigh, 
And angel voices whisper low 

The counsels of their ministry. 
Rejoice, then, star and flower and sea. 
All that is mine shall come to me. 

(second voice.) 

(faith COMFORTETH the doubting SOUL:) 

Love knoweth all, the end from the beginning. 
Love seeketh all the brightest and the best, 
Love crowneth all : no triumphs worth the win- 
ning. 
Save those whose wreaths are won at love's 
behest. 
Love builds the world : for one high purpose- 
spending 
Its lavish treasures on the work begun ; 
There Truth and Right, in one vast glory blend- 
ing. 
Shall dwell witli Knowledge when the work is 
done. 
Vain, vain the labor of my hands contriving 

To build on earth some shrine and temple fair. 
And vain this Aveird, wild fantasy of living 
Unless the soul of all things, Love, be there. 



128 



A SONG OF LIFE 

The wedding marches and the nuptial torches— 

Ah, what are these but mimicry and jest, 
When Love lies dead and Life's fierce sunlight 
scorches 

The dying flowers with which his grave is 
drest ! 
What boots it to the aching heart and yearning 

That Beauty smiles and strains of music fall. 
When Fate withholds the master passion, burn- 
ing 

To crown with glory and to seal it all. 
No more, no more the dying Autumn's splendor 

Shall paint the withered leaf. 
No more, no more the broken chord shall render 

Its tone of joy or grief. 
We love but once; one h^art is all that Pleasure 

Hath given us in store ; 
We pour out fondly once the glowing treasure, 

And Life affords no more. 
O Life, Life, and is that little day 

The flying moments' span. 
Whose sun and shadow melt in night away, 

The horoscope of man? 
Behind him nothingness, and deep before 

Abysmal darkness when the day is done ; 
Nearing the brink at last, he plunges o'er, 

Bereft of all things, naked and alone. 



129 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

His earliest voice a cry, his last a groan. 

Can this be all, ye immortal yearnings. 
For which we fight and toil 

Through dust and shame and marvelous heart 
burnings. 
And fear and pain and broil? 

If this be all, kindly Night, o'ertake us 
With starless shadows deep ! 

Sense and Passion, nevermore awake us 
From elemental sleep ! 

This is not all, soul of mine, repining ! 
Self -exiled wanderer from the Father's home, 

From the far-heaven the faithful home-lights 
shining, 
Gleam on my vagrant steps where'er I roam. 

The quest of Knowledge, led me forth, un- 
bidden, 
Through realms of Sense and Time to wander 
far. 

To catch some glimpses of the purpose hidden 
In rolling earth and solemn-beaming star. 

Husks shall I eat, and bitter bread of sorrow. 
Vain prodigal, far from my Father's face, 

And on and on. tomorrow and tomorrow, 
Through labyrinthine glooms my pathway trace. 
Yet shall I gain my quest, and homeward turning 



130 



A SONG OF LIFE 

Repentant steps, shall understand and see 
How the great Father-Heart above me yearning 
Hath wrought his signs and miracles for me. 

For me the glad earth threads the pathless 
spaces 
And tireless sets the bounds of night and day, 

And far Uranus, dim and distant, traces 
Its orbit vast and sheds its twilight ray 

For me, for me, heir of the vast hereafter, 
The planets burn and star and system sweep, 
Nor voice of prayer, nor human tears nor 

laughter, 
Shall stay the wanderers of the azure deep. 

For they are there, sublimely wrought, to tell 
me 
How wisdom holds the universe in awe, 

How Life and Death and all that e *er befell me 
Are harmonies of one eternal law; 

That law, heart, that set thy pulses throb- 
bing 
Through the long vista of the lapsing years. 

Whose dictates yet shall still thy fitful sobbing, 
And close the chapter of thy hopes and fears ; 

That law whose faith is still serenely guiding 
The mystic courses of the silent stars. 

That calls the morning forth, on splendors 
riding, 



131 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

And tints with beauty all the sunset bars. 

That law is Love, that law is Life unending, 
Through blight and change and envious decay, 

Its path of Order still divinely wending 
To blend its glories with the perfect day. 

Arise and sing, heart of mine, and boldly 
The appointed paths of joy and sorrow tread, 
Though dark the way, and dimly shine and 
coldly 
The distant skies that far above thee spread. 
Thy goal is Day; thy treasure undecaying 
The gift of life, whose blossoms full and fair 

Shall yet rejoice to feel around them playing 
The thrilling breath of a diviner air. 

Disease and Sorrow, Death and Pain and 
Sighing 
Shall fail and vanish at the sun-lit ray. 

And wisdom write, in characters undying. 
The law of Life; to know is to obey. 

Search then thyself, O heart, for in thy ])eat- 
ing 
The meaning of the universe lies hid. 

Thy tireless pulses through the years re- 
peating 
The two-fold riddle of the quick and dead. 

Thou wast not made for tree, and brook and 
flower. 



132 



A SONG OF LIFE 

For rolling heavens and earth-encircling sea, 
Thou wast not made an hour-glass for the 
hour, 
But these — the world and Time — were made for 
thee. 
What human king of kings could match the 
glory 
That fills the skies where constellations meet? 

What human art interpret half the story 
That thrills tlie teeming earth beneath thy feet? 
Rejoice, rejoice, through worlds on worlds be- 
fore thee 
Fair Knowledge throws her pathway open wide. 
She calleth from the suns that cycle o'er thee. 
She whispers in the murmur of the tide. 

Forever, O forever, for thy teaching. 
The bloom of Spring and Autumn's falling leaf. 
And yearning earth, in time and season reach- 
ing 
The full fruition of the garnered sheaf. 

Forever, forever, for thy blessing 
The sunbeam's glory and the raindrop's fall. 
Fond Nature's homage thee supreme confess- 
ing— 
Then know thyself, and knowing compass all. 
Deep dwells the night upon thy path, and 
weary 



133 



SONGS OF THE TIMES 

Thy homeward plodding, till the morning rise, 
Till Truth, at last, dispels the darkness 
dreary, 
child of God, heir of Paradise! 



The Voices cease; the shining Oracle 
Wends slowly down its pathway through the 
deeps ; 
And Night and Silence all the spaces fill, 

The listening Stillness broods, and Nature 
sleeps. 



134 



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